The World Still Spins
by honorableotp
Summary: Caroline comes to New Orleans during Mardi Gras. Something terrible has happened, and she can't deal with it. But maybe Klaus can help her. Angsty one-shot (actually short this time)


There is a ghost in his studio.

That's what Rebekah tells him; an angry remnant of someone who used to be full of light.  
A million possibilities run through his mind, but never did he think it would be her.  
She doesn't hear him come in, and doesn't hear him gasp quietly. Her finger delicately traces a globe, the nail of it making a soft scratching noise. Her finger lands in the middle of the Atlantic.

Cheering suddenly bursts through the open window, and Klaus can picture the parade rolling through.  
He doesn't expect her hair to be so long, almost past her waist. He doesn't expect her skin to be so pale; almost grayish. She moves slow, her senses are clearly dulled. She needs blood, but something tells him she would refuse any offers.

"Hello, love." She doesn't freeze, like he had expected. She spins the globe again, landing on Ireland.

He hears a bead necklace hit the window on the floor below.  
"Hello." That is all Caroline says, spinning the globe over and over. China, the US, Greece. At one point she drags her finger down while it spins, so that the scratching of her nail gets a bit louder.  
She lands on Antarctica. A chill goes through the room. He crosses the threshold, siting on the couch. From this angle he can see the side of her face. Mascara runs down it.

"I was expecting you to take longer." She doesn't say anything, just turns her back to him. Her dress floats after her.

"They're dead." She whispers it to the night sky through the open window. A shout from the street rises up. "D-e-a-d." He is quiet, leaning back and observing her sharply. A giggle falls from her mouth. "I was expecting it. I mean, they were ninety-six. But I wasn't ready."  
"Carol-"

"Don't even try. You can't understand it, Klaus. The world turns… and turns… and turns…" She spins the globe with each 'turns' and giggles again, somewhat hysterical. "But they didn't." She sighs, stepping forward and leaning out the window, looking down at the people below her. Her voice is shaky. "You're lucky. Yours did. I bet you didn't even have to ask her." He is silent still, knowing she's unfinished. "I should've asked mine. I mean, I really should have. I didn't want to push it, though. I didn't want them to get mad at me. I was on borrowed time, didn't want to give any of that away," Another pause. She considers flashing the parade for beads, decides she's too high up for them to throw, despite the obnoxious cheers encouraging her to. "The one thing we never did was Mardi Gras. I was too afraid of falling into you. But, God, we had a blast. I traveled with them. All around the world. I was a fun mom, when they were older. I mean, I smoked weed with them when they wanted to. I didn't freak out when they brought people back to the hotel room to fuck, I picked out slutty clothes for them, not that that's uncommon anymore." She breathes deep. He can hear the tears she is holding back. "Fuck, I would kill for a cigarette right now." He raises a brow. "Oh, shut up. I can hear your eyebrow judging me. I know it's pointless, but France got to me. Everyone smoked, before the laws were passed. They're more calming than you'd think, just breathing in, focusing on something, and I didn't have to reap any of the health issues." Her voice has returned to its even state. "Josie was the first. Her sister was a few seconds later. Just like how they were born." A few minutes of silence pass easily between them. She pulls her body inside as the noise of the parade fades, but she still leans against the windowsill. "Hope turned one hundred this year, didn't she?" She turns to him finally, the mascara on her cheeks in stark contrast to the hue of her skin. He knows it's his turn to talk.

"Yes. She did." Caroline shakes her head and laughs bitterly.

"You'll never know how good you have it." He pats the space next to him.

"Come here." She hesitates for a just a moment before sitting down, curling underneath his arm. She takes a deep breath.

"I'm gonna turn it off." She whispers, opening her eyes to look into his. They aren't widened, like she had expected. He nods, looking down at her. Klaus' hand darts out and brushes a stray hair off of her face.

"Okay." She smiles gratefully, resting her head against his chest and staring at the same spot on the couch. She thinks she can see a miniscule fleck of blood.  
"You could come with me. You could flip the switch, too. We'd be a beautiful sight, leaving carnage in our wake." She sounds far off, like she's in another place. He strokes her hair.  
"Then who would bring you back, love?" Silence. She stiffens after a few moments, then lifts herself off him. Standing before him, her shoulders are set stiffly. She does not lean towards him, and does not look at him the same. She smirks cruelly, winking.

He misses her humanity, as soon as it is gone. He searches for something left in her, knows he will find nothing. He is glad he gets to see her like this, though. He has always been willing to take the good with the bad, _more_ than willing.  
And honestly, she's kind of hot like this.

"See you soon, Klaus. Or maybe not." She is gone not a second later, the air behind her smelling of stale tears and vanilla. He assumes she's chasing the parade and the feast that it will bring.

"However long it takes." He whispers to the night. He swears he can hear her laugh float through his window.


End file.
